A bold hippopotamus was standing one dayOn the banks of the cool ShalamarHe gazed at the bottom as it peacefully layBy the light of the evening starAway on a hilltop sat combing her hairHis fair hippopotami maidThe hippopotamus was no ignoramusAnd sang her this sweet serenade

Mud, mud, glorious mudNothing quite like it for cooling the bloodSo follow me, followDown to the hollowAnd there let us wallow in glorious mud.

The fair hippopotami he aimed to enticeFrom her seat on that hilltop aboveAs she hadn't got a ma to give her adviceCame tiptoeing down to her loveLike thunder the forest re-echoed the soundOf the song that they sang as they metHis inamorata adjusted her garterAnd lifted her voice in duet

Mud, mud, glorious mudNothing quite like it for cooling the bloodSo follow me, followDown to the hollowAnd there let us wallow in glorious mud.

The whole hippopotami began to combine On the banks of that river so wideI wonder now what am I to say of the sceneWhich issued by the Shalamar sideThey dived all at once with an ear-splitting sploshThen rose to the surface againA regular army of hippopotarmiAll singing this haunting refrain

Mud, mud, glorious mudNothing quite like it for cooling the bloodSo follow me, followDown to the hollowAnd there let us wallow in glorious mud.

A young girl in a parking lotWas preaching to a crowdSinging sacred songs and readingFrom the BibleWell, I told her I was lostAnd she told me all about the PentecostAnd I seen that girl as the roadTo my survival

-- Paul Simon, "Duncan"

"If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all." -- Noam Chomsky

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning and the first thing that I heardWas a song outside my window and the traffic wrote the wordsIt came a-reeling up like Christmas bells, and rapping up like pipes and drumsOh won't you stayWe'll put on the dayAnd we'll wear it 'til the night comes

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning and the first thing that I knewThere was milk and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges tooAnd the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my sensesOh won't you stayWe'll put on the dayAnd we'll talk in present tenses

- Joni Mitchell

(This is for Dennis, because he seems to need cheering up, and this is one of the happiest songs I've ever heard)

The magpie comes a-calling Drops a marble from the sky Tin roof sounds alarming Wake up child "Let this be a warning," says the magpie to the morning Don't let this fading summer pass you by Don't let this fading summer pass you by

Gonna drive all day gonna drive all night!Whatever it takes to get to the light!I'm running on rage, I'm outta control!My anger for you is like a burning coal!So you can cry me a river, cry me a river of tears!Yeah you can cry all you like, but it won't change my mind!I gotta get away, get you outta my life!

"Is the glass half-full or empty?" I ask her as I fill itShe said it doesn't really matter, pretty soon you're bound to spill it.With the half logic language of the sermon she deliversAnd the way she smiles so knowingly at me gives me the shiversI pull the blanket higher when I'm finally safe at homeAnd she'll take a hundred with her, but she always sleeps alone,The girl with the weight of the world in her hands.

-Emily Saliers (Indigo Girls), "The Girl With the Weight of the World in Her Hands"

"If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all." -- Noam Chomsky

if this world is wearing thinand you're thinking of escapei'll go anywhere with youjust wrap me up in chainsbut if you try to go out alonedon't think i'll understandstay with mein the silence of your roomin the darkness of your dreamsyou must only think of methere can be no inbetweenwhen your pride is on the floorI'll make you beg for morestay with meyou'd better hope and praythat you make it safeback to your own worldyou'd better hope and praythat you wake one dayin your own worldcuz when you sleep at night they don't hear your cries in your own worldonly time will tell if you can break the spellback in your own worldstay with me

You say it's comingBut I can't see it at allYou know me wellBut I don't you at allNo I don't know you at all

It's always just on the horizonSo my hopes rise and fallYou know me wellBut I don't know you at allNo I don't know you at all

Been dreaming of blue skiesNew horizons and sights for my eyesThe discovery of the unknownIs something to tell the folks back homeI want to get awayTo feel the sun on my skinTo feel it really sinking in

Well we stick our fingers inThe ground, heave andTurn the world aroundSmoke is blacking out the sunAt night I pray and clean my gunThe cracked bell rings asThe ghost bird sings and the godsGo beggin hereSo just open fireAs you hit the shoreAll is fair in loveAnd war

Black night, it's not right,I don't feel, so bright,I don't care, to sit tight.Maybe I'll find on the way down the linethat I'm free, free to be me.Black night is a, long way from ho....ho ho oh ho ho-me.

The Vicar wrote:I hear Nat King Cole in my head when I think of that song. That Nat could sing some.

Yes, he could, if in a somewhat constrained style. But it's the season, and that song has been going through my head. I have to practice up the chords on the guitar so I won't disappoint on the 25th! Those chords are pretty fierce - not your basic three-chord blues at all.